


look through the glasses of time

by liminal_years



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Background Basile/Daphné, Eliott POV, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Norway (Country), Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:40:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26250568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liminal_years/pseuds/liminal_years
Summary: When Eliott takes two weeks off work and embarks on a drive through the northernmost part of Norway, the last thing he expects is a chance encounter with a French expat in a tiny Arctic village to add to his already tangled up emotions.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	look through the glasses of time

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I went on a road trip in the north of Norway recently and fell in love with the scenery there, to the extent that my brain has now spawned an elaborate Elu fic partially set in the area.  
> The tags and summary will likely be updated as I get further into the writing process so look out for that.  
> I have a track record of not completing the ideas gathering dust in my word docs folder and I couldn't wait until I'd finished writing it, so I figured I'd get a prologue up on here now to motivate myself to go through with this. I will likely update as I write, so I can't promise regular updates, but I'll start posting more of it once I have a few chapters finished, to give myself a head start on that.  
> In the meantime, I'd love to hear what you think :))  
> *Title from The Daisy Chain by The Growlers

He pulls over to the side of the road and curses his luck alongside the clock flashing 8:42 p.m. on the dashboard. Why does he keep ending up in these situations? 

The thing is, Eliott has been driving for two hours, and it’s all starting to seem a bit hopeless. It's all tunnels, mountains, sheep, more mountains. The waters biting into the sharp edges of land are steely grey and unforgiving. It's not raining _yet_ but the fog rolling down on the hills is doing nothing to fuel his optimism right now. Or is it that the ground itself is ascending through a dense cloud along with his rental car? 

Whichever the case, he’ll need a roof above his head soon and that doesn’t look to be happening. Why? Because his phone battery has died and the only signs of human activity in the vicinity are the two leaning net sheds which Eliott had noted on the waterfront in the last half hour of driving, damn it. 

He rolls his shoulders to shake off the tension he shouldn’t be feeling – he's on holiday after all – and gets back on the road. One more hour. And then... well, he’ll either freeze his balls off and brave the storm in a tent that’s undoubtedly more suitable for a music festival in Provence than for hiking north of the Arctic Circle, or sleep on the backseat of the car. Eliott cringes. 

He turns the music down and squints to make out anything in the distance. Either it’s his wishful thinking or there is an _actual_ village ahead. 

And so Eliott ends up in the driveway of what he assumes is a bed and breakfast, bounding up the porch stairs and knocking, all before he has any recollection of getting out of the car, never mind contemplating if it’s still a respectable time to show up at someone’s door. 

The kind elderly lady who answers doesn’t understand a lick of English, and as Eliott is similarly inept in Norwegian, their conversation takes the shape of an elaborate pantomime. Eliott is nearly positive that she’s understood him correctly, when her face lightens up and she exclaims a name. Lucas. Eliott’s relief turns into befuddlement. 

“Excuse me, what-” he attempts, but the lady motions for him to wait while she dials a number on her phone. 

“Lucas snakker engelsk,” she states to Eliott, followed by a quick lilting exchange with whoever is on the other line – Lucas, apparently. 

She’s calling her son to help out, Eliott guesses. Or perhaps her husband who’s just gone out of the house to get milk. In any case, Eliott is prepared to meet a stoic grandpa type, or a man in his mid-thirties if it is the son. The man who jogs up to the house is _not_ who he’d envisioned. 

The guy is about Eliott’s age, if not younger, though maybe that’s just the impression he gets from the wild hair and the fact that the stranger – _Lucas_ – is nearly drowning in the sweatshirt he’s wearing. 

“Hei, Stine,” he greets the lady with a wave before turning to Eliott. He’s standing at the bottom of the steps leading to the porch and it only serves to make him seem tinier from where Eliott is standing. 

“Hi, I’m Lucas. Stine says you’re hoping to stay here for the night? Or well, she wanted me to confirm that with you, I guess.” Unlike Stine, he pronounces his name with a familiar accent, omitting the “S” at the end, and for a moment Eliott feels like he’s swallowed his tongue. He stifles his surprise, although not too successfully, judging by Lucas’s quizzical look, and steps off the porch to meet him. 

“Eliott,” he offers in greeting, “and yeah, she’s got that right.” What the hell, he shrugs, and switches to French. 

Lucas’s eyes widen in realisation and he responds in kind, although Eliott thinks he can detect a degree of timidity mixed with the joy of recognition. 

“Just for tonight then, or are you staying longer?” Lucas gets back to business. _Oh_ , right. Sue him but Eliott had nearly forgotten about Stine peering at them from the doorway, and what he’d even come here for. 

“Actually, can I get back to you on that tomorrow?” Eliott hedges. It’s just occurred to him that he has no clue where he is, or how long of a drive it is from there to Skarsvåg, could be an entire day’s worth for all he knows, and yet he’s reluctant to commit to leaving right after a good night’s sleep. 

“Sure,” Lucas agrees. “You can let Stine know tomorrow. I mean, I’ll be around for that.” He shrugs and throws a fond look towards the old lady. 

Lucas didn’t intend it as a promise to him, Eliott knows, but it makes him smile nevertheless. 

“Right, so we’ve got a cabin for two over there,” he motions to the far right. “Or an apartment for two in the building right across from here.” 

“It’s just me, actually.” Eliott gives the admission easily. It had felt foreign at first, wandering through new places without a significant other in tow, or his friends with him, but really, he’d always enjoyed solitude, and contrary to what he’d believed as a teenager, most people barely spared him a second glance for it. 

Lucas nods, and Eliott feels pinned to the spot by his eyes on him. “Two is the smallest we have, so. You can enjoy the extra space I guess.” He suddenly seems to realize he’s staring at Eliott and quickly looks away. His hands have disappeared into the sleeves of his hoodie, cuffs hanging over his fingertips, and Eliott absently notes that he’s shivering himself. When had the temperature dropped? He pulls his jacket tighter around him and tucks his hands in his pockets. 

Eliott ends up going for the small apartment, relieved at the prospect of his own bathroom and a kitchenette, even if it’s just for a night. He does _not_ miss the communal showers at the campsite where he’d stopped two days ago. He’s not exactly uncomfortable with sharing, it’s just that he’d rather not walk in on strangers loudly going at it against the tiled wall, thank you very much. He’s been traumatized enough by his flatmates throughout the years. 

Lucas gives him a quick tour of his accommodation and, after Eliott has paid Stine for the night and received a set of keys along with the Wi-Fi password, heads off. 

“See you tomorrow, then,” Eliott calls after him. 

He can faintly make out Lucas saluting to him through the fog. 

A brief search on his phone after a rushed dinner of instant noodles tells Eliott that he’s ended up in Olderdalen, population just over 300. Huh. 


End file.
